


Vice Versa

by CupcakeGirlA



Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping their distance wasn't working. Maybe it was time for a change.<br/>Warnings: Results from the 400im, 4x100 Relay, and 200 Free are mentioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vice Versa

The pressure had gotten to you both. You tried to act like it wasn’t there. Like it wasn’t coming between you. But it was impossible to listen to that much hype, answer that many questions about your “rivalry” all while trying to balance friendship and camaraderie, with ego and confidence. 

You both wanted to win, believed you could win. But if you won, he lost and vice versa. By unspoken agreement you put everything… extra on hold. There was training, and taper, and competition to think about. No time for any extracurricular activities, and neither of you needed the distraction. So you keep your distance. Rooming with other members of the team happens without a big discussion, and you get to London ready to compete for the same medals, for the same title, that of best US male swimmer, best swimmer in the world. That’s when things sort of go to shit. Things just aren’t right. 

You get in the pool for your first final of the games, the 400im, and you fall apart. While Ryan wins, you come in 4th, off the podium for the first time at an Olympics since you were 15. 

You compete, together, in the 4x100 free, and things are better for you. You swim out fast, but something is off, out of sorts. Ryan touches the wall second. Together you get Silver. 

Ryan swims in the 200 Free and he doesn’t make the podium. You watch from the ready-room, preparing for the 2 Fly semis, and you shake your head. Everything is getting fucked up. For both of you. When Ryan appears, looking haggard, and defeated, you make your move. You’re supposed to be getting into the zone, listening to your pump-up mix, and ignoring the other swimmers, ignoring Clary. 

Instead you grip Ryan by the wrist, yanking his unresisting body from the ready room and into the safety and privacy of the locker room. Ryan seems to snap out of it then, pulling away from you, with a confused glare. 

“What the fuck, Mike?” he asks. You push him into the corner, crowding him in close. 

“We need to stop this bullshit, Ryan,” you say. He frowns at you. 

“What are you on?” he accuses. You shove him again, pushing in to press your mouth to his. He strains against you but goes pliant within in just a few seconds, his mouth opening to yours. You taste him for the first time in weeks, months even, and you feel something inside of you unravel at the familiar tang of his tongue on yours. You breathe in deep the smell of chlorine and aftershave fills your nose and you relax muscles you didn’t even know were tense. You pull away too soon, wary of his response, and knowing you need to get back before your absence becomes too obvious. 

“We’re both going to ruin everything if we don’t stop this shit. We work because we push each other. We work because we inspire each other. You aren’t my rival. You’re my fucking boyfriend, and I don’t want to pretend otherwise anymore,” you eye him carefully. “You know it too. I think about you more when I can’t talk to you, touch you, hang out with you. Because I miss you so damn much. So I’m saying fuck it.” You watch a hesitant smile bloom across Ryan’s face. 

“You’re sure?” he asks. You nod. 

“I’m going to go out there and get into my final, and tonight when we get back to the dorms you’re switching Charlie’s shit out with yours. Enough of this separation BS. We’ve always roomed together. Why fix what ain’t broke?” you tease. He slumps against the wall. 

“Ok,” he says. You step back, reaching up to tug absently at the swim cap covering your head. He smiles at you a little crookedly, leaning forward to tug you into another kiss, softer somehow, less physical. “Now go doggy, you can’t keep them waiting,” and you groan half in frustration and half in relief. 

Later when you take your time climbing out of the pool, you feel more like your old self in the water than you have since before trials. And you smile your way back to the locker room, through the press conference, and all the way up to your dorm room where you find Ryan’s already started to unpack. 

Now, you think to yourself, you’re both ready to race. Everybody better watch out.


End file.
